Faith
by fishwrites
Summary: Merlin fails to protect Arthur - leaving the prince of Camelot cursed and not quite as tall as he should be. Fluffxsome seriousness
1. Chapter 1

**F A I T H**

**:i:**

_Be faithful in __small__ things because it is in them that your strength lies._

*

It happened in a blink of an eye.

One moment-

"And Camelot be damned with you!"

-The next, Merlin was running forwards, because execution be damned, he wasn't just going to let Arthur _die _right in front of his eyes. He could feel the magic welling up inside him like a golden wave, barely held back under his skin, and he pushed at it, thinking _no, save Arthur, no_. He threw himself in front of his prince, desperate, but somehow ended with an elbow in the gut, his legs swept out from under him, Arthur's voice shouting "No!" and his head hit the ground, hard.

The sorceress shrieked in fury, and there was a whirl wind of dust.

Merlin scrambled to his feet, head still ringing from his fall.

The woman and Arthur were gone.

"Arthur?" he blurted, stupidly, whipping around to look desperate around the great hall.

"_Where is he?!"_ Uther bellowed, face blanched white, sword drawn in gloved hand. "_Where is my son?_"

Had the sorceress taken him? Merlin felt about cautiously with his magic, trying to keep the panic at bay with logic. Why would the witch try to kill Arthur then change her mind and take him hostage? It didn't make sense. Either the witch had fled and Arthur had- He cast his eyes about the hall once more, taking in the confused and scared courtiers who had all been trapped within by the magically locked doors. They were now open, and knights were pouring through the doorway, filling the room with sweeps of red.

No Arthur.

Where-

And then Merlin noticed something at his feet. A pile of clothes. _Arthur's _clothes!

He dropped to his knees next to them, just as Uther appeared out of no where beside him.

"Are those-"

Merlin didn't even look up, picking up Arthur's red jacket- his favourite, gold studded buttons that needed to be polished every second day, god Merlin hated doing that but Arthur really did look rather dashing in it and- he forced his mind back to the present, stamping down on the babble of panic and hysteria.

And as he pulled away Arthur's jacket, he spotted something in the pool of fine silk shirt Arthur had worn to the feast. His blood ran cold.

It was Arthur.

Arthur, naked, unconscious in a heap and _six inches tall._

"Oh _Arthur," _breathed Merlin, terrified. He was aware of Uther standing by him, stock still with shock and disbelief, and then Gaius appeared, crouching down next to him and peering into the bundle of cloth that was Arthur's clothes.

"Gods above," said Gaius, "Is that-"

Dimly, Merlin heard Uther calling out orders, words like _tonight, find her, _and _dead or alive _filtered through to his brain but otherwise, there was a white, buzzing noise in his ears that prevented him to think. It was the curse, it must have been – instead of killing Arthur, it turned him six inches tall; effectively damning Camelot in the process. If Merlin couldn't find a cure, then there was no way- Arthur couldn't stay like this forever.

"…Merlin, are you listening to me?" said Gaius.

"-And undo this curse!" Uther.

Merlin jumped, almost falling forwards. He managed to catch himself just in time before he fell onto the clothes.

"What?"

"I said we need to get Arthur out of here," said Gaius, urgently.

"Okay. Okay," said Merlin, taking deep breaths. Now was not the time to lose his head.

The shirt was far too large – and Merlin was afraid he might suffocate Arthur if he wasn't careful. So instead, he reached up and untied the knot of his neckerchief, folding the cloth in half and then carefully shifted Arthur from his shirt into the dip of the kerchief. Arthur did not stir at all, tiny limbs limp, head lolling. The situation should be funny somehow, but it was all Merlin could do not to choke on his fear. With infinite care, he wrapped the cloth around Arthur, keeping his head uncovered, and cradled him in the cupped palm of both hands. Arthur was so small there was barely any weight.

"Do you know of a cure?" demanded Uther, eyes a little wild. It was not the king Merlin knew; all powerful and unwavering in his fight against sorcery, cruel in his revenge. This was Arthur's Father.

"I fear with such a curse, only the sorceress may undo it," said Gaius gravely, and Merlin was unable to suppress a shiver, drawing Arthur closer to his chest. Uther's eyes flickered to the figure in Merlin's hands, then away as if he couldn't bear to look.

"Then we shall find her and force her to undo the evil she has done. In the mean time, try find a cure."

"Yes sire," said Gaius, inclining his head, and then ushered Merlin quickly out of the hall. Merlin almost tripped, eyes glued to Arthur in his hands –_in his hands_- instead of watching where he was going. He managed to keep his balance, heartbeat ratcheting against his ribs.

"Careful, Merlin!" Gaius admonished.

"Sorry!" said Merlin, "Sorry, sorry."

Oh gods, Arthur was _six inches tall. _He was small enough to fit into Merlin's palm, small enough to be killed if Merlin accidently fell over, or held him too tightly or dropped him-

They made it to Gaius's rooms, finally.

"Put him here," said Gaius, clearing a space on the workshop table. Merlin put Arthur gently down on the wooden surface, parting his hand slowly. And as he did, Arthur groaned, shifting his cocoon. Merlin froze.

"We need to figure out what kind of spell she used," Gaius was saying, "Perhaps- Merlin?"

"I think- Arthur?" Merlin bent low over the table, "Arthur, can you hear me?"

Arthur groaned again, and then he opened his eyes. Blue eyes – still the same sky blue- stared back up at Merlin for a long, long moment- before Arthur shrieked. Merlin jerked backwards. It sounded like a shriek, even though it was more of a shout, because Merlin realised suddenly that Arthur was really just _six inches tall_ so his vocal chords were probably miniscule. But for some reason, he could still hear Arthur perfectly well when he said:

"Merlin?"

Merlin swallowed hard.

"Yes. Yes – it's me."

Arthur looked remarkably calm for someone who was six inches tall. Oh gods, Merlin could still not comprehend it – _six inches._ He stared up at Merlin's face, which must have been a pretty disturbing sight, thought Merlin, and tried to sit up.

"Why are you so…big?" asked Arthur, voice trembling only very slightly.

"It's not that- you've been- you're…"Merlin wasn't sure how you could sugar coat being cursed into a miniature version of yourself. "You've been cursed," he said at last.

By now, Arthur had extricated his arms from the neckerchief and was holding it about himself with both his hands, sitting up on the table. Merlin watched as he looked slowly around himself, taking in the gigantic books and inkwells and the glass bottles in a row.

"Are you hurt, sire?" asked Gaius.

"I'm fine," said Arthur, turning around and Merlin saw his eyes widen as he saw Gaius near the table.

He watched as Arthur struggled to his feet, the neckerchief trailing in a huge wave behind him. He was almost as tall as the two books stacked on top of each other by his side, blond hair in a messy tuft upon the top of his head. The goblet that was taller than he was now, reflecting his pale face in it's curved metal surface. The tin dinner plate was a lake and Merlin snatched the abandoned fork out of Arthur's path, who stood rather still. The table top was a huge expanse of dark wood, the room even larger from his perspective.

And Merlin barely managed to catch Arthur's little body as he swayed precariously, once, twice, and fell into a dead faint.

**:I:**

**Author's Note: **My fluffy WiP fic. :) tbc**  
**


	2. Chapter 2

ii.

Arthur woke, groggy and disoriented. He burrowed deeper into his pillow, breathing a familiar and somehow comforting smell. There came an odd sound from somewhere behind him. Arthur rubbed at his eyes, wondering when whether or not he was late for the Knight's morning drill – Merlin had no doubt been late _again_; he was going to put that idiot in the stocks when he-

Arthur blinked.

He blinked again.

Where was the furniture?

Everything looked so strange, and for a long moment, he couldn't figure out why…until the events of the night before came rushing back all at once; _witch, curse, Merlin._

Arthur sat bolt upright, trying to scramble out from the strange, soft nest he seemed to be lying in – until he realized he was still naked. Clearly, the spell had shrunk him but not his clothes. He tugged the blue blanket around himself and tried to stand. The surface beneath his feet was spongy and sank when he moved; causing Arthur to wobble when he tried taking a step out of the warm indent he had worn into the expanse of white all around him.

He had never been so disoriented in his entire life.

What should have been Gaius's familiar workshop was now transformed into something surreal and so _big. _The table below him was a huge expanse of dark wood, with towers of dusty tomes, quills and bottles of half congealing liquid. He could see the grains and whorls in the uneven table top, run his hands across the fabric and see the strands of cotton in the blue.

Arthur had a silent, private little panic.

He moved his limbs, tentatively. He didn't feel any different from yesterday. In fact, apart from a slight headache, he felt absolutely normal. He could move normally, and as far as Arthur could tell, he looked just as he had done before the feast. Exactly as he had done – only ten times as small. He shivered in the cool morning air.

Turning around slowly, he realized that the huge dark lump in front of him was Merlin's head (taller than he was, even with Arthur was standing on this _thing, _and drawn up to his full height. Or rather, lack of it.) Merlin's face was smooshed into folded arms as he slept, head rising and falling slightly with his breaths.

Arthur coughed pointedly.

No response.

He coughed again.

Merlin snuffled in his sleep, and Arthur took a deep breath before shouting;

"Merlin!"

Merlin woke with a start, and _oh _he was _tall_. Arthur had to crane his head back to see his face, and he didn't like it. He was a _prince_, curse or no, and he shouldn't have to look up to anyone. Well, asides from the King.

"…'thur?" he said, staring at Arthur with wide eyes, "You're awake!"

"Of course I'm awake. What's this?" he asked, stamping up and down on the softness under his feet.

Merlin yawned, and belatedly, Arthur realized he had been sleeping on the open pages of a book, hunched over. He rolled his shoulders back and groaned at the crick in his neck.

"It's my pillow," said Merlin, rubbing sleep from his eyes, "Didn't know where to put you, after you'd fainted."

Fainting? Arthur distinctly remembered _not fainting._

"I did not faint," he said, bristling.

Merlin rolled his eyes and leaned forwards. His face came into startling focus very fast, so much so that Arthur nearly fell backwards in shock.

"Whatever you say, Arthur," said Merlin, and Arthur could see each individual eyelash as he blinked, fanning across pale, bruised skin. It looked like he had barely slept.

"You look terrible," said Arthur, peering upwards.

"Well," said Merlin, closing the book in front of him with a dusty snap, "Been trying to find something to get you out of this mess."

Arthur trekked across the pillow, dragging the blanket with him until the surface dipped in a white slope that ended at the table. He eyed it warily, then before Merlin could object, jumped and slid down the edge. He hit the table with a jarring _thump _and Merlin yelped in response. The next moment Arthur found himself half way in the air, feeling as if his stomach was still back on the table.

"MERLIN!" he yelled, kicking (unsuccessfully) at the fingers around his middle, "YOU CAN'T JUST PICK ME UP!"

"You could have broken your neck!" Merlin shouted back and his voice was _much _louder than it used to be, making Arthur flinch instinctively away. Merlin must have felt that because suddenly he looked terribly guilty, face crumbling and he lowered Arthur back down to the table slowly.

Arthur wobbled a little when he returned to earth, drawing the blanket more firmly around himself.

"I don't fall over my own two feet, _Mer_lin, unlike someone I could name. Just because I'm-"

"Miniscule?"

Arthur glared at him.

"- _Slightly diminished_, doesn't mean I can't function. Have you found a cure yet?"

Merlin stared at Arthur for a long moment, rubbing a fist in his eye.

"No. Gaius thinks it might be a death thing."

Dread filled Arthur.

"A death thing?"

"If the sorceress dies, the enchantment will be lifted," Merlin explains, "That or we find her and force her to undo the magic. But…"

"Let me guess," said Arthur, bluntly, "We haven't found her."

"The king's sent out men. All your knights are looking for her."

Arthur sat down on the table, cross legged.

"They'll never find her," he said, trying to keep his inner panic under control – he couldn't stay like this. What if he was cursed forever, too small to be of use to Camelot or anyone? "She has magic and we won't be able to track her down."

There was the scraping sound as Merlin got up; pushing his chair back. He towered over the table. Arthur resisted the urge to look up.

"I promise you'll be fine," said Merlin, "I'll find something."

Arthur rolled his eyes, though he doubted Merlin could see it.

"Right."

Merlin crouched down so that his face was level with the table, and Arthur.

"Trust me, Arthur," he said, voice so full of sincerity and promise it made Arthur feel inexplicably warm all of a sudden. Perhaps it was a side effect of being turned into a mini-version of yourself by magic, he thought. Normal emotions became concentrated in his new, smaller body. Hence, any strange moments of sentiments could not hold him liable.

He shrugged.

Merlin sighed.

"I need to find you some clothes or something."

Arthur looked up then.

"I won't be staying like this long enough to need clothing," he said more calmly than he felt, "How will you find them anyway? I doubt there are any that fit me." He waved his arms in demonstration, taking in the book that was almost as tall as he was, it's worn leather spine rough with age.

Merlin looked a little shifty.

"I'll ask Gwen," he said, straightening up once more, "You might catch a cold and I really don't need that complication on top of everything else."

Arthur gritted his teeth.

"I won't be _catching_ any colds, _Mer_lin."

"Can I trust you to stay here while I fetch you some clothes?" asked Merlin, as if Arthur had not spoken. The prince ran a hand through his hair, irritated, and glared at Merlin.

"It just so happens that I can do what_ever_ I like because I am the-"

"If you don't promise, I'm taking you with me," said Merlin. He paused for effect. "In my pocket."

Arthur looked outraged.

"I'm not riding in anyone's smelly pocket. Especially not yours! You don't even _own _pockets."

It suddenly occurred to Arthur he didn't particularly want to be left alone on the table, and it also occurred to him that if he was thinking about himself being left on a table in his every day life, his life really, really _sucked._

"Swear to me you won't do something stupid," said Merlin, stubbornly.

"Stupid? I'd never-!"

"Arthur!" exclaimed Merlin, exasperated.

"Merlin!"

"Stop being a prat!"

"Stop being a-"

"Ah, I see he's awake," came a voice from the door and they both spun around. Arthur could hear the shuffle-clunk of something being put down and then Gaius came into view around a tottering pile of books.

"Gaius, I'm going to go get Arthur some clothes," said Merlin, and Arthur could see him eyeing him from somewhere way above his head. He tried to look nonchalant, relaxed and very calm – exuding that quiet confidence Princes should always have, no matter what situation they found themselves –e.g. six inches tall and leaning against a pillow the size of a small hill.

Gaius nodded and Merlin left, leaving Arthur on the table and Gaius sitting down on Merlin's recently vacated chair. There was a click as a monocle was put in place, and Arthur found himself being peered at through the eye lens. It made Gaius's eye look even bigger than it already was.

"How are you feeling, sire?" asked Gaius at last.

"I'm fine," said Arthur, shortly.

A pause.

"You're taking this remarkably well," said Gaius, reaching for a book to Arthur's left.

"Have you found anything?" he asked, watching the pages flip and sneezing a little when the dust got into his nose.

"I'm afraid not, sire," said Gaius carefully, "the curse-"

Arthur waved a hand.

"Merlin told me it could only be broken when the witch dies or if she lifts it."

Gaius flipped another page, frowning.

"That is, if the magic is reversible at all."

Arthur frowned.

"What?"

"Some magic; especially wild magic of the old religion, are not made to be broken," said Gaius, then added hastily, "But I doubt this is the case."

Long minutes passed in silence. Arthur studied the book in front of him, the pages thick in a way he had never noticed before. The black ink of the words stretched across its smooth surface, distorted and illegible. Arthur felt very naked beneath his blanket, vulnerable in a way he _hated_.

"Is there any hope of breaking this curse, without the witch?" asked Arthur, "Answer honestly."

Gaius sighed, heavily.

"I don't know."

*

"But you don't get it!" yelled Merlin into the chasm, "He's only _this _big!"

The great dragon let out a rumbling chuckle that scoured the stone wall, disturbing small rocks that clattered into the dark.

"You humans are all very small already. I see no difference."

Merlin threw his hands up in exasperation, the light from his torch dancing reflected twice in the beast's golden eyes.

"Please! I need help changing Arthur back!"

The dragon was still laughing.

Merlin ground his teeth in frustration.

"You have to help me. What about Arthur's destiny?"

"This is part of his destiny," said the dragon, "destiny has _intervened,_"

*

An Hour Later.

*

Merlin rifled through Arthur's wardrobe.

_Red shirt, red shirt, red shirt, blue! Red shirt, red shirt, red jacket, red jacket._

Merlin pulled out two red shirts, Arthur's third favourite brown jacket, and one of the breeches he wore hunting. Making sure the door to Arthur's chambers were locked, he placed the clothing in a row on the floor, spread out flat so he could see the shape of them.

He was sure Arthur wouldn't miss the clothing, when he turned back to normal. Pretty sure, anyway.

Merlin could always magic them back to normal size again.

Yes. Nothing to worry about.

Holding out his right hand, Merlin concentrated and said the spell for shrinking.

Nothing happened.

He said it again, more loudly than before.

Still nothing. The shirts mocked him where they lay.

Merlin swore.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tugged on that warm feeling inside his chest where he knew the magic lay, closing his eyes and imagining the fabric's thread pulling, becoming smaller and smaller and smaller and-

Merlin opened his eyes.

For a moment, he thought he had vanished the clothing altogether, but when he crouched down to the stone floor, he saw them – two sets of miniature shirts and a delicate little coat. Grinning with relief he scooped them up in his hands and ran out of Arthur's chambers, the doors banging shut behind him as he tore up the corridor, anxious to get back to Arthur.

A few minutes later, he burst into Gaius's workshop, panting and slightly out of breath.

Gaius was at one of the benches, stirring something faintly minty in a flask. For a moment, Merlin couldn't see Arthur anywhere and he felt something constrict in his chest like terror – but then he spotted a familiar fluff of blond hair, half hidden behind a pile of books.

Rounding the table, Merlin saw that it was Arthur, standing upon the open page of a medicinal book and walking across the parchment as he read. Merlin's blue neckerchief was dragged along behind him, and he cast a little shadow over the paper.

"I brought you some clothes," said Merlin, quietly, so as not to startle Arthur.

Arthur turned around to face him, and Merlin quickly crouched lower so that he wouldn't have to crane his neck. Arthur was grumpy enough as it was. Proudly, Merlin put the shrunk shirts, breeches and jacket in front of Arthur's feet.

Arthur picked up the jacket, looking curious despite himself.

"Well, these didn't take very long to make," he commented, examining a minute button.

Merlin floundered for a moment.

"Er. I- Gwen was very good. I mean. You know. Dolls."

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Dolls."

"Yeah!" said Merlin, "They have clothing made for them all time! Just the right size for you."

Arthur picked up one of the red shirts, feeling the material between his fingers.

"Well, I suppose _you _would know about dolls. Right then."

Merlin ignored the comment.

"They're cool, aren't they?"

Arthur gave him a flat look.

"_Turn around_. I'm getting dressed."

Merlin almost jumped, heat rising in his cheeks as he quickly spun around to face the window.

A moment later; "These are a remarkably good fit," commented Arthur and Merlin took this as his cue to turn around.

Arthur stood on the page, dressed in his shirt and breeches, jacket fitting snugly around his tiny shoulders. He was smoothing down the press of his shirt and tugging at the sleeves of his coat, his hair messy from pulling on his shirt; a perfect miniature. Belatedly, Merlin realised he hadn't brought Arthur any shoes or boots.

Arthur put his hands on his hips, looking rather defiantly back up at Merlin.

"What are you staring at?"

"Nothing."

Merlin hid his grin, because despite the gravity of the situation, Arthur did look rather endearing. Very endearing, even.

Merlin ignored the fact that he often found Arthur endearing; for example, when he came back from a tournament and looked so happy in that Oh-Of-Course-I-Won-And-I-Don't-Care-What-My-Father-Thinks-_Mer_lin sort of way, or how he would order up enough food from the kitchens and let Merlin 'steal' from his plate, or how he would look tell Merlin to fix all the boots he never wore and then give them away to people in the lower town because they needed shoes.

"So," Merlin said, watching as Arthur returned to his reading, "Have we found anything?"

"No," replied Arthur, shortly.

Merlin went to the cupboard and fetched down the cheese and bread for breakfast, putting them on a plate and bringing it back to the table.

"There's apples there, Merlin," said Gaius, coming over and setting down the flask- which was now no longer smelling of mint but rather a sickly, yellow colour. Merlin noticed Arthur eyeing it warily.

"I am not drinking that," said the prince.

Gaius raised a forbidding eyebrow.

"Because it's not done yet. But you will if you want to be back to normal, sire."

Arthur huffed, a small indignant sound

Merlin took the flask and swirled the contents around.

"Will this help?" he asked Gaius.

"I have no idea. Without magic to undo a magical spell…" he trailed off.

"Even if there were a sorcerer capable of undoing this curse," said Arthur from the table, "They wouldn't help a Pendragon."

Merlin closed his eyes for a brief moment.

"Arthur, Gaius will-"

"Try his best," Gaius cut in, taking the flask from Merlin's hands and setting it down beside a row of others.

"I need to check the library – stay here with Arthur."

"Okay," said Merlin, without looking up.

Gaius sighed once more and moved away. A moment later, the door closed with a creak.

Arthur walked to the edge of the page, and then sat down, legs dangling over the pages. He stared at something across the table, and Merlin wanted to say something reassuring, something that would make the situation better.

"Well, it could be worse," he said, weakly.

Arthur looked up, a familiar _you're-an-idiot-Merlin_ expression on his tiny face.

"Really."

"Well. She could have turned you into a toad," offered Merlin.

"She would have turned _you_ into a toad," said Arthur, glowering upwards.

"Huh?"

"You idiot! All set to just leap in front of me. If I hadn't got you out of the way, you would have been dead. Or worse."

"What, worse like you are now?"

"You were being reckless!"

"I was trying to save you!" protested Merlin, feeling the sting of failure hot behind his eyes, "If you hadn't been so _stupid-_"

"Then it would be you, like this!" said Arthur, jumping to his feet, looking like the time, long ago, when Merlin insisted on drinking poison for him on a lonely beach.

"I'm not the future king!" retorted Merlin, "It doesn't matter if I'm cursed!"

Arthur crossed the page in as large a strides as he could manage, coming right up to Merlin's face. He looked furious, face contorted with anger and…something else. Merlin stared right back, lips in a flat line.

"You can't make those decisions for me, Merlin," said Arthur, hands fisted at his sides, "You don't get to decide to forfeit your own life. Not again. Not for me."

"I can if I want to," said Merlin, lips pulled in a thin line.

"No," said Arthur, flatly, "You can't."

And suddenly Merlin recognized that look in Arthur's eyes – one that was so rarely there – but it was_ fear_.

Merlin resisted the urge to reach out.

"Arthur-"

"I forbid you to do anything stupid," said Arthur, voice full of authority. Then he cast Merlin a sideways look, "I realise that is going to be difficult for you, god knows-"

And the tension was broken.

Merlin leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face.

"God, you are such a _prat_," he complained, "Like all of your usual pratness has been concentrated into a smaller volume. Concentrated Arthur."

Merlin gave an exaggerated groan.

"And yet I can still put you in the stocks," said Arthur, wagging a finger. He took a few steps backwards, to the middle of the page. Merlin wondered if his bare feet were going to ink stains from the letters, and made a mental note to remember to find Arthur some socks.

He sat up and reached across the table for the plate of food.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, setting the plate down on the book.

Arthur climbed over the metal rim of the plate and went to stand next to the wedge of cheese – which came up to his shoulder and was give times as fat as he was. Merlin watched, fascinated as Arthur took the edge of the cheese with both hands and wrenched a piece off with a twist and tug. The wedge of cheese in his hands was almost the size of Arthur's head. Merlin grinned into a fist, lifted the bread from the plate and broke off a piece. Then he proceeded to crush the crumbs with thumb and forefinger, so that they rained down on top of Arthur.

"_Merlin_!"

Merlin couldn't hold back a laugh.

"Sorry!" he gasped, and perhaps there was a little hysteria in there somewhere, " I just couldn't resist!"

Arthur glowered, in what would have been an intimidating expression. Apart from the fact that he was barely big enough to see over the top of the cheese.

"You just wait," said Arthur, coming to sit on the edge of the book again, gathering up one of the sizeable bread crumbs from the plate and coming to sit on the edge of the book again. "Let's see if you're laughing when I'm back to normal- _Merlin_, stop laughing!"

Merlin cut a slice of cheese from the wedge and made a sandwich from the bread, taking a bite and watching Arthur do more or less the same, dividing his block of cheese into identically sized pieces, then pairing them with a crumb.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, and Merlin discovered it was really impossible to divide apple into small enough pieces for Arthur; they made quite a mess of it.

"I'm sticky," said Arthur, unimpressed, trying to wipe his hands on the paper beneath him. Gaius would not be pleased at all.

"Hey. Hey, stop that," said Merlin, "Look, if I just cut off a piece and you can bite off it. Okay?"

"I don't even like apples," said Arthur, rather sulkily, in Merlin's opinion. But he took a bite from the apple edge. Merlin smiled, pleased, and relieved that the mission of eating was keeping Arthur preoccupied.

"I suppose this isn't too bad," said Arthur, finally, after they had finished. He pulled himself over the spine of one book, then another, clambering up the pile of books until he was at the very top. He walked around the perimeter of the book (100 uses of Walnut Shells, 2nd Edition, _C. Monk_) and Merlin watched him.

"I mean," Arthur went on, looking about the room with a something akin to wonder in his eyes, "Until I get changed back. You're right, it could be worse."

Merlin nodded.

Arthur could be _dead_.

"Oh my god, get down from there," said Merlin, reaching for Arthur. The prince glared daggers at him.

"If you think I'm going to let you pick me up-" he warned, hands reaching for a sword that wasn't there. Arthur backed away slowly. He was straying dangerously towards the edge of the books. If he fell, it would have been the equivalent of falling out of one of the fourth story windows.

"Look, okay, I won't pick you up. But you have to be careful – what if you fall?"

At this, Arthur paused and looked over his shoulder.

"I'm not going to _fall._ Stop mother-henning, _Mer_lin."

Arthur walked right along the length of the spine, just to prove his point, balanced on the very edge. Merlin felt like his heart was going to jump out of his mouth.

"Arthur…" Merlin pleaded. He tentatively held his hand out, palm flat and facing upwards, his fingertips touching the book Arthur was standing on.

"I can climb down, you know," said Arthur, stubbornly, though he had stopped skipping along the edge and came back towards the center of the cover. He traced the large golden letters with his steps for a long moment, walking along the title.

Merlin waited, patiently.

Arthur folded his arms across his chest, eyeing Merlin's hand for a long time.

And Merlin held his breath as Arthur let out a little huff of annoyance, then strode across the book and stepped into his palm. He could feel the soles of Arthur's little feet digging into his hand, the small, warm weight of him as he stood (wobbled), straight backed and so unsure in Merlin's hand. Slowly, slowly, Merlin drew his hand towards his face, holding Arthur carefully at eyelevel.

Close up, Arthur looked exactly the same. Golden hair, chiseled features in miniature, hands so small Merlin couldn't stop staring at the splay of tiny fingers across the hem of Arthur's coat.

"You look really, really odd, from this perspective," said Arthur, and Merlin could see his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

Before Merlin could answer, he was interrupted by the door of the workshop being flung open. He turned, and the movement caused Arthur to loose his balance with a cry of surprise and falling onto his backside. Instinctively, Merlin curled his fingers around him, thumb forming a cup that enclosed the figure in his hand.

He stared. It was Gaius with _Uther._ Hastily, he put his hand to the book, letting Arthur step onto its surface. Merlin bowed to the king, reluctantly stepping away from the table as he strode up to it, barely sparing Merlin a second glance.

"Arthur," said Uther, barely suppressing the relief in his voice, "Are you hurt?"

Arthur had moved backwards towards the edge again, away from the towering figure that was his father. He stood stiffly, as if trying to draw himself up to his full height. Even though he was standing on a tall pile of books, Arthur still had to tilt his head back in order to see his Father's face. Uther leant closer, a hand coming up to grip the book Arthur was standing on.

"I'm fine, Father," said Arthur.

Uther stared at his son for a few, long moments before rounding on Gaius and demanding;

"Is there _nothing _you can do?"

Gaius sighed.

"No, your highness, until we find the sorceress who cast this spell, our only hope is for the curse to wear off on its own."

Merlin glanced at Arthur, but Arthur was staring resolutely at his father, face devoid of emotion.

"What of your medicines? There must be something!"

"This is not a natural ailment," said Gaius, in a tone that suggested he had said this many times before, "I'm afraid only magic can undo this."

Uther's hand clenched and unclenched in his glove.

His was still gazing at Arthur, eyes tight around the corners.

"My son is in a vulnerable…position," said Uther after a tense stretch of silence and it was a moment before Merlin realized the king was talking to _him._

"Y-"

"There will be those who will try to take advantage of this curse. You are to guard him with your life. "

"Father!" Arthur protested, looking outraged. "Merlin can hardly-"

The king ignored his son.

"Am I understood?"

Merlin stared back, holding Uther's gaze in a way he was sure wasn't protocol.

"Yes, sire," he said, _I do already._

"If any harm befalls him, I will have you hanged."

Merlin swallowed, glancing at Arthur, who said, looking shocked;

"Father-my lord- you cannot do this, Merlin is only-"

"I _can and will_ do everything that I need to do, Arthur. We currently have twenty suspects arrested in the dungeons. Rest assured that we will find the sorceress soon."

And with that, he turned and swept out of the room.

Arthur stood very still, staring after his father from his perch on top of _100 Uses of Walnuts._

For a long moment, no one said anything.

**:i:**

**Arthur's Note: **So my explanation for shitty endings is that I'm typing this fic whenever whim takes me, snatching 10 and 15 minutes at lunch etc. :P Hope you're enjoying though; and please do drop me a comment! If there are any requests for The Adventures Of Weenie Arthur - feel free to spam.


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